Illumination
by ScarletSoles
Summary: 2D finds happiness in a night of drugs and passion. He returns home to a particularly brutal attack from Murdoc, reminding Stu that he's trapped in a world of pain. But, after a conversation with Russel, 2D thinks, maybe, he can break free. [Pre-Phase 5]
1. Dawn

**A/N:** X-posted from AO3. This is an angsty story that takes place just before Phase 5. Contains mature themes of abuse so turn away if you need to...this is about as bad as it gets, really, so in Chapter 3 (Eclipse) watch out for blood, physical abuse, gaslighting, and rape.

Enjoy!  
_

You can be happy, if you choose to be.

You can also choose happiness, but fail miserably.

2D tried to choose happiness for the first month on Plastic Beach. He chose to escape, but failed. He chose to forget about Noodle, but failed. He chose to relax and clear his mind from gut-wrenching fear of the cetacean eye that guarded him and unpredictable yet regular pain at Murdoc's hands. It didn't work. So he retreated into a mental shell and figured it wouldn't be so bad if the whale just put him out of his misery already.

But it _was_ so bad.

No matter how many times Stuart stared death in the face, it always terrified him. Coming close to death was always traumatically agonizing, even methods that seemed peaceful from the outside, like asphyxiation and bleeding to death. And he deeply feared what would come after. 2D believed in some sort of afterlife, and he didn't want to spend eternity knowing that his time on earth ended tragically, either because of the climax to a long string of violence, or his own stupidity. So as his room at the bottom of Plastic Beach shook with the thrusts of the whale pounding its head into the island, and as water began to rush into his room, he trembled with such force that he couldn't get up from the corner in which he was huddled. He pictured the inevitable over and over, legs curled up to his body and hands faced palms out, as if that would do anything to defend him from Leviathan.

As the seams in his room split, water poured in, and he imagined suffocating in this dark, unknown corner of hell to which he had been confined. As the water rose, the frigidity made him think he may freeze to death instead. At least this way he wouldn't have to endure being eaten.

One more crash against his room and water tore the walls apart, rushing towards Stuart as he gasped in preparation for his drowning. But as the gaping mouth with white, conical teeth lunged forwards, he plunged into the darkness of the whale's body instead.

He would never forget being trapped in the whale. He would never forget it, but he would always wish to.

The next thing he knew, he was in a pitch-black, hot, moist tube. His surroundings were sticky and squishy to touch, but the narrowness pressed dangerously on his chest, and the smell didn't make breathing any easier. 2D didn't know how long he was in there, but instinct was on its knees, begging to escape the entire time. To survive and live out his life, and find happiness.

Even years later, 2D would hardly ever get past this part in the dream before awakening: sweating, gasping, and shaking violently. If he was lucid enough to remember his housemates, he would bite his forearm to prevent himself from crying out. But this night was different. The dream continued.

In the whale, 2D felt something touch his arm that was not hot, pulsing or soft. It was sharp: most likely a piece of plastic the whale had eaten. In a wild rage, he grasped the object and started slicing through yielding flesh. Through a suffocating mass of blood, sinew, offal, and organs he swam, turning sideways through the whale's ribs and using them as leverage to push himself up. He was nearly certain he would pass out and die there, but his self-preservation instincts were stronger than he thought and he kept pushing.

He made the final slash through the whale's thick, tough skin, emerged into the blinding, blue sky. Overwhelming relief and empowering freedom filled his lungs like the fresh, beloved sea air.

Against all odds, darkness had turned to light.


	2. Morning

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! This is a relatively happy chapter, with people enjoying dancing, drugs, and sex. But then, some anxiety.  
_

2D awoke in a strange room. Shaken from the dream, he sat up for a minute anticipating a panic attack.

A minute later, none. That was good. He should sleep in more often. Keep dreaming until the sun rises.

He looked around at his surroundings, dimly lit by the early sunlight muted through a white curtain.

The first thing 2D noticed was the form of a woman facing away from him, sleeping undisturbed in the same bed. He recognized her purple hair immediately as that of Roni, a funky girl who worked at the record label. She was always polite to 2D, but he still shocked that he was in her bed. He put his hand to his mouth quietly and looked down at her, confused. How on earth had he managed to convince her to have sex with him? He had slept with random groupies and birds from bars before, but Roni actually _knew_ him and _still_ had agreed to bring him home. Stu got up and walked to the shower, trying to piece together what had happened the night before.

As the shower water ran over him, his mind brought him back to the previous evening. He clearly remembered that the band was going to a club to dance, and videographers would film it for the Strobelite music video. He truly loved the music he had helped create, and the sound coursed through his veins like a drug.

Also coursing though his veins like a drug was drugs. MDMA and a little acid, to be specific.

He danced as the high rose in his system, and then the overwhelming desire to socialize and spread positive vibes took over. It's as though the real 2D melted away and a confident, free man took his place.

Or was this the real 2D, unleashed? And the anxious wreck he was half the time was the impostor? He supposed it didn't matter.

This 2D wanted to spread and enhance the good vibes with his band mates. "Noodle, Noodle, I don't say this enough, but I couldn't be more proud of you and everything you are and do," he told the guitarist with an embrace.

"Russel," he continued, turning to the drummer. "There's never been a better friend in the world than you." He even told Murdoc that he looked good tonight and quickly pranced away to dance with Noodle.

He must have talked to a dozen people in the crowd. A therapist gave him her card, blue and imprinted with a URL in front of a photo of a sunrise. He smiled and told her he would call her. "Sure," he thought to himself. "Like I need someone else telling me what I'm doing wrong."

Stuart also talked to a strange, mustached man in a fez who asked him a lot of questions about Murdoc. The mysterious figure said that 2D was the real talent behind the band, and should be in control. "We could work together and make that a reality," he suggested in a thick accent, sliding 2D a white card with a picture of a truck on it. "I just need some info."

Weird. Vibe down. 2D took the card and excused himself to talk to Roni.

"Everyone's different, even the same people when they feel different are different, even bugs, yeah?" 2D and the girl from the record label had been conversing for a while about their lives, about music, Roni's own band, and about the club, but as usual, Stu had started talking about bugs. He couldn't help it. "Some people think they're stupid just 'cause they act and think so different from us. But they got so much going on in their little heads."

"Exactly," Roni, surprisingly, agreed. "Like, think. If you spray some ants and you kill 100 of them, that's 100 individuals. Each of them, if you give them a puzzle, will solve it differently, because they have different personalities and hopes and dreams, and if you kill 100, you just killed 100 personalities and sets of hopes and dreams."

"Right?" Stuart nodded emphatically. "We should leave them alone. Everyone has a right to dream and to be happy. Even bugs."

That's when she leaned in to him, put her hand on the side of his arm, and slowly came in for a kiss. She looked deeply into his eyes and asked, "Do you want to come dream a little with me at my flat?"

The next thing he knew, they were snogging in the hall outside her flat, his hands on the small of her back, and hers running through his hair. He worried that he might accidentally catch her lip ring, but she was groping him too seriously to pause. She stumbled to get out her key, and when she unlocked the door, the singer kicked it open and they giggled their way to the bed.

Roni was so full of energy, it put a new force in Stu. They both tore off their clothes and looked at each other with a mutual hunger. Roni put her arms around Stuart's neck and pulled him backwards onto the bed. He put his hands out on either side of his partner to catch himself on the bed so he wouldn't land on her completely, grinning down. He lifted one hand to caress the side of her cheek, and she pulled him down and bit his shoulder.

He stopped moving abruptly, and his grin faded. Roni looked at the spot where her mouth was and saw there was already a bruise on her partner just to the left where she had bitten. As she receded from him, she saw more bruises on his bicep and collarbone.

"S-sorry," she said. "I won't do that again," and she gently touched the area with her fingertips.

"Thank you," he responded and the grin returned. "It's fine. Thank you for...for being aware."

The night slowed down from then and they continued gently, but the erotic energy still somehow ramped up. If anything, their exchange made 2D feel more seen and his feelings considered, strengthening their connection. Their hips, breath, and thoughts oscillated in tandem. They moved as one and watched how the other responded to each stimulus. It was like an energy was flowing between them, passing from one to another at every point of contact. The roof was caving in. At the height of their union, their connection blossomed so powerfully that 2D saw stars.

This was the happiness that he could choose.

He would _never_ forget this.

2D turned off the shower water. So it had been Roni's idea to have sex, not his.

But as Stuart dried off and his brain found his reserve of dopamine to be dried up, negative thoughts slowly started to invade his bliss. He wondered if there was some reason she'd want to spend the night with him that didn't involve affection. Previous girlfriends had broken up with him, declaring various reasonable reasons to leave him, but Murdoc had told him the truth: They all were actually disgusted by how wimpish and stupid he was. Paula had been wanting to leave him for a real man, Murdoc said, and never told Stuart to spare his fragile heart. Did Roni not _see_ that Stuart wasn't worth her time? If Roni didn't see his obvious flaws now, she would eventually. Maybe Roni had been fooled by his high personality. Maybe she just wanted to say she had screwed someone famous. Maybe she felt sorry for him.

Roni was still asleep when 2D returned to her room, searching out his clothing on the floor. He picked up his jeans, with his phone, keys, and business cards in his pocket. He checked his mobile-he had no texts asking where he had gone. Maybe he had told his band members where he was going before he followed Roni home, or maybe they didn't care that he was missing. He quietly put his clothes back on.

Stuart found a notepad and a purple marker, and scribbled a little note to the lady.

"wow," it said, with a little drawing of a happy face with heart eyes. "i had a lovely night & hope u did too. call any time," and his phone number. He stuck it to the fridge with one of her star-shaped magnets.

He left and closed the door softly, and walked down the hall. Now his anxiety was inflating inside him like a wretched balloon, and he turned around to take back the note. But the door had locked behind him.

Oh well. He lit up a cig and walked home.


	3. Eclipse

**WARNING: This is the graphic/bad chapter with physical/sexual abuse. Skip it if you want, the narrative arc will still make sense!**

Murdoc was sulking and stroking his bass early in the morning when he heard the front door open. He leaned out the door frame to look down the steps to see 2D putting out a cigarette in an ashtray and taking off his jacket, lazily hanging it on a coat rack.

The singer put his hands behind his head with his elbows in the air and arched his back, stretching and looking around at the empty beer bottles on the coffee table and the mantle. He looked relaxed. That wouldn't do.

Murdoc was not relaxed. He had hardly had any sleep the night before, livid at the opportunity he believed he had missed the night before. One thing would help relieve the stress and anger he felt, though. He picked up some choice objects and stashed them in the back pocket of his jeans before heading out the door. The bassist looked down the stairs at 2D and called out to him. "Oi!"

2D flinched and jolted his arms in front of him.

"Have a good night, did you?" Murdoc asked.

2D looked up curiously at his band mate and grinned slowly, but still maintained a defensive stance. "Yeah. A great night. Did you?"

 _Oh, that's it,_ thought Murdoc. _He's having a laugh._ Murdoc squared his shoulders and marched down the stairs defiantly. 2D shrunk back toward the door, reaching for the handle.

"I did _not,_ thank you very much," the bassist growled, balling his fists. "I was going to, though. The bird from the label, with the purple hair, she was talking to me last night," he explained. "She couldn't stop flirting, and we were going to seal the deal. I was going to have her, but I was playing hard to get." The bassist advanced toward the singer, eyes narrowing. "So she tells me she's going to go shag someone else to make me jealous. Never thought I'd hear from Noodle that it was _you_ who she went home with," he snarled.

Stuart opened his mouth slightly and furrowed his brow, searching Murdoc's eyes, seemingly confused. Then he looked down at his shoes. "Oh."

While 2D was looking down, Murdoc drew his arm back then thrust his whole body forward, launching his fist right into the singer's left eye, punching him right into the door. The force was enough that the back of 2D's head cracked the glass window. The singer yelled and slid to sit on the floor, one hand covering his eye and the other reaching to the back of his head. He withdrew his right hand from his head injury and looked at it, and found blood on his fingers. Before he could recuperate, Murdoc kicked him in the chest, eliciting a grunt from his band mate, who brought his knees up and put his face down, shielding his head with his arms.

"You think you can just walk away with my girl? Like you're free to do whatever you want?" The bassist barked.

"Muds please, I didn't know...the others could be home!" Stuart reasoned.

"They won't hear anything, Noodle's out all day and Russel won't be home for hours," Murdoc countered, and kicked the cowering man in the shin.

2D gasped and grabbed his newest wound, starting to breathe shakily. "Don't do this again, Murdoc," he tried again. "Don't you care about the band?"

The bassist scoffed. "Of course I do, what do you mean?" Murdoc crouched to the singer's eye-level and grabbed his blue hair. "What are you talking about?"

"When you do this, I can't work, I can't do my part in the band like this," 2D said, starting to shake, hands still on his shin. "When I know you're going to hurt me. It's hard, I almost can't do anything. I can't be creative, I can't be in the room with you, it doesn't come naturally because I'm always afraid this will happen." The singer looked straight forward, not meeting the eyes of his assailant. "Even when you're gone, I'm too distracted nursing wounds and too afraid to make good music. I don't do interviews, I don't experiment, I can't bring myself to try...I've missed important meetings...I can hardly get out of bed..." He was trembling. He knew what was coming. "Just leave me alone...do it for the band..."

Murdoc paused for about three seconds and smirked. "Good one, mate, but you forgot one thing. You owe me," he countered, while pulling a pair of shiny handcuffs from his back pocket. He grabbed one of 2D's arms and forced a cuff onto his wrist, closing it to the smallest setting. Then, as he reached for the crouching man's other arm, he was shocked to feel a foot on his chest, kicking him hard backwards into the hall. Murdoc landed on his backside and elbows with an "oof."

Stuart scrambled to his feet and turned around, frantically grabbing at the doorknob. After a second of shock, Murdoc stood up again as well. He scanned the room for a weapon and quickly found one: the fire poker. It was just as Stu got the door open a crack that Murdoc grabbed the metal object and jabbed it into his band mate's back, right between his two bottom ribs on the right.

The singer shrieked and reached backwards as Murdoc withdrew the poker and kicked the door closed again. With 2D trying to reach on the wound that was now spreading blood down the back of his shirt, Murdoc saw an opportunity to grab the younger man's wrists and handcuff them together behind him. Stuart tried to yank them apart, then threw his own body backwards to knock Murdoc over once more.

On his back, Murdoc looked up at the man above him, who had turned around to face him, in shock. "You're going to regret that!" he yelled with such electricity that 2D froze. That gave the bassist enough time to get up, pick up the poker, and deliver a swift whack to he singer's shoulder. Stuart yelped and Murdoc grabbed him by the shirt and threw him over the couch's armrest, face pressed into the cushions.

He straddled the face-down Stuart and held him down by the neck, lightly pressing his throat. "You think this will hurt the band?" He demanded. "It's the opposite. Do you know what I've sacrificed for our music? And you're worried about some bruises?" Murdoc pressed his nails into 2D's neck, drawing blood and strained breaths. "Everything I've done to you, I've done for your own good. Would you have stayed with the band if I hadn't threatened to kill you if you left? Would we have created Plastic Beach if I had let you leave? You have no will, no discipline!" He punctuated the last word with a punch to 2D's kidney, eliciting a grunt from the younger man.

"That's why I'm here. To give you discipline. And boy, are you going to get it now."

2D gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, and Murdoc could see tears falling from his eyes down his nose. The vocalist's breaths were shaky, but he was otherwise silent.

Murdoc wiped a tear away from the face beneath him. "Relax, mate. This is for your own good. Do you think I _like_ hurting you?"

It was hard to tell where 2D was looking, but me moved his head to look somewhere behind him, then up at Murdoc's face. "You've got a stiffie."

Anger boiled over and turned Murdoc's face red. "So the dumb ass wants to be a smart ass, yeah? Let's see how smart you are when I'm through with you." He unbuckled and unzipped his pants. "Don't move. You know I could still do real damage, or kill you if I want."

He reached around the paralyzed man's pants and unzipped them, sliding them down with his boxers. Stuart trembled and pulled so hard on his handcuffs that his left wrist started to bleed. Murdoc licked his fingers and slid them between 2D's cheecks, stopping to gently rub his entrance.

"This is mad," the trembling man whispered.

Murdoc ran a hand through his blue hair. "I know."

The bassist returned his hand to 2D's neck, alternating between soft caressing and hard squeezing. As Murdoc choked his bandmate, he slipped his index finger into his back side and twisted.

Stuart jolted as Murdoc stuck another finger in. "It's ok, Love." He bent and twisted his fingers as Stu closed his eyes and bared his teeth, clenching.

Murdoc pulled out, switched hands, putting his right hand on 2D's back, pressing at the wound that was now spilling blood over the side of Stu's back. Murdoc used his left hand to free his cock from his boxers and lined himself up. He licked his left palm and slicked his cock with saliva.

"Murdoc, Murdoc _please_ ," Stuart begged as the bassist pressed his thumb into the hole that the poker made, the head of his cock preparing to do the same with the singer's arse. "Let's talk, yeah? I'll do anything, I promise. What do you want? I'll give you anything. Just don't...do this, and don't kill me."

"Hmm," Murdoc hummed, unconvinced. He slowly pressed his member inside as the singer squirmed. Murdoc put both his hands on the hips in front of him and held fast, digging his fingernails in. "Don't move, mate."

Once he reached all the way in, he pulled out and quickly slammed forward, earning a shriek from the man below him. He stopped, then started again, pumping fast, then slow, laughing at the whimpers and begging below him.

The feeling of control was intoxicating for Murdoc. Fucking the dullard was way hotter than anything he would have done with the girl from the label, he mused. Plus, he needed to keep the dolt in line for the good of the band.

2D might have yelled himself hoarse if it wasn't for the green man's intermittent squeezing of his neck, which left Stuart desperately panting and sucking in air whenever he got the chance. When Murdoc found himself close to climax, he bent down and bit Stu's shoulder, right where he had hit him with the poker, tasting blood. He sped up his thrusts, nearly knocking the wind out of the skinny man, grunting as he came inside him.

After a few more thrusts, Murdoc stopped. He stayed inside for a minute, laying on top of his quivering, sweaty victim.

"Let me go," a small voice interrupted Murdoc's post-coital glow. He withdrew and stuffed himself back into his pants. Then, he looked down at 2D's bruised and bloody body, but kept his palms pressed onto the man's back to keep him down. Murdoc paid particular attention to the bite mark, the hand-shaped bruises on 2D's hips, and the blood leaking out of his arse. He started to wonder what would happen if anyone else saw these particular marks and pieced together what had occured. Murdoc never apologized for beating and nearly killing 2D, in fact, he mentioned it in several interviews. He knew it made people uncomfortable, but no one except Russel would try to stop him or hold him accountable; it was generally accepted that this was how he ran his band.

But with the new wounds, he feared that someone would discover the sexual nature of this assault. He pondered that the press may label this a 'domestic' dispute. Murdoc could handle being called a violent bastard, but a rapist? That wouldn't do.

He briefly considered killing the singer, but that seemed like just as much of a risk. Maybe he could make 2D forget, so at least he wouldn't accidentally spill the beans. He stood up and moved toward the drawer in the table beside the couch. "Don't go anywhere. Sit on the couch."

As the younger man slowly moved to sit on the couch, Murdoc pulled out a pill bottle and took a nearly-empty beer bottle from the stand. He poured out four pills and walked toward his victim, who was sniffling and whose cheeks were wet with still-flowing tears. Murdoc thrust his palm toward Stu's face and forced the pills into his mouth. "Swallow," he demanded, and then put the beer bottle to the singer's lips, to wash down the drugs.

Then Murdoc withdrew the glass bottle and quickly smashed it over 2D's head, shards of glass and drops of blood raining onto the couch cushions. Stuart screamed, bent forward, and moved to cover his head, but his hands were still cuffed behind his back.

The bassist was annoyed that Dents was apparently harder to knock out than usual, but he didn't give up. He picked up a heavy ceramic lamp and unplugged it, then raised it above his head. 2D blinked the blood out of his eyes just in time to see Murdoc above him. "Oh, God," he cried softly before the lamp came down with a crack.


	4. Penumbra

Russel would never forget what he saw that afternoon in the closet.

It was 2PM when Russel returned to the house on Wobble street after a morning discussing some business with the record label. He opened the door and put his jacket on the coat rack. He noticed 2D's black jacket hanging there as well, and figured the singer must be home. He thought about going to ask how his night was—Noodle had told him that 2D had left with a lady friend—but the couch caught Russ's eye, distracting him.

The drummer's heart sped up as he looked around the room, trying to piece together what had happened. There were reddish brown spots on the couch cushion and back, and broken glass on the furniture and floor. The fire poker was on the ground beside the fireplace, and the ceramic table lamp was on its side, cracked. Russel crouched down and picked up a piece of green glass, carefully inspecting it. Then he noticed a trail of brownish streaks leading from the couch to the closet. He followed the trail and opened the closet to find a crumpled, still body.

Alarmed, Russ crouched again but couldn't see his band mate's face in the darkness, so he reached in and pulled 2D out by the waist. Illuminated by the afternoon sun through the cracked window in the door, Russ could see the blue-haired man's state. The left side of his face was swollen, the right side covered in dried blood. His shoulder was bloody too, and, most notably, he wasn't moving, even after being yanked from the closet.

Russ's heart quickened. No matter how many times he saw Stu hurt, he always panicked at the thought of 2D dying. Squaring with Murdoc was always a gamble, except there was no winning this game. The best you could hope for was an hour or two of pain. One of these days, D would end up in another coma, or paraplegic, or deaf, or dead.

"D!" Russel yelled, and grabbed Stuart by the shoulders, shaking him hard. "Wake up!" No response. Russel let the man fall to the ground and started patting his cheek. "Yo, wake up, wake up." He wouldn't stop until he knew the extent of the damage. He cautiously put a large finger to 2D's neck, and almost cried with relief when he found a pulse.

"D, wake up!" He called and slapped the unconsious man in the face. That earned him a groan, and Russ thanked his lucky stars.

"Are you ok? Can you walk?"

The singer lifted a palm to his head, and Russ noted the cut and bruise around his wrist. "Ow..."

"Talk to me," the drummer asked, firmly.

"I...how did I get...oh." Stu looked dazed and unsure.

"What happened?" Russ stood over Stuart, who started to get up on his elbows as Russ backed up.

"Oh. Uh...you...could probably guess," he joked with a dark smirk.

Russ was relieved to see his friend could still talk and move, at least, and he brought the man into a bear hug. 2D, who usually liked hugs, yelped and tried to push Russ off.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, and released the bloody man, who sat up. Russ felt that his forearm was damp, and looked down to see it was red with blood. Russel frowned. Russ was glad D was alive, but he still looked like hell and was badly hurt.

"I'm sorry," Russ repeated. "I wish I could have stopped him."

The singer pressed his palm to his bloody temple and closed his eyes. "You weren't there. I was. This is on me."

"It's on him, Stu," the drummer spat firmly.

2D was silent for a moment. He took his palm from his forehead and looked at it, then put it back.

"Then I guess there's nothing I can do."

Russ sighed. He would have to collect his thoughts for a more nuanced conversation with 2D later -and maybe a more direct one with Murdoc. "Come on," the drummer said, standing up and reaching a hand down to the singer. "Let's get you cleaned up."

The blue-haired man looked up. "Thanks, mate," he said and reached up to take Russ's hand with both of his own. He grimaced as he pulled himself up.

Sensing 2D's discomfort, Russel carefully placed his other hand on 2D's waist, supporting him. 2D leaned on his friend and blinked away a tear as they ambled carefully toward the bathroom. Stu was breathing heavily when he reached the toilet and sat down with an "oomf."

Russel soaked a hand towel in warm water and wrung it out, then handed the damp cloth to his friend. "Your face." 2D started wiping his face while Russel got the medical kit from behind the mirror and opened it, unsure of where to start on the younger man. "What hurts the most?"

2D stopped. "Ahhh..."

"I felt your back was bleeding? Turn around, let me see."

The singer rotated on the toilet seat revealing a red waterfall spilling from mid-back down to the pocket of his pants. Russel carefully lifted up the shirt, peeling the cloth from sticky skin, to reveal a deep cut surrounded by purple and yellow bruising. This was bad. "Damn, D!"

The singer flinched and slouched into himself. "What the hell happened, man?" Russel continued. "What happened to your wrists? Why can't you walk right? How can you let him treat you like this all the time?"

Stuart, still facing away from the other man, leaned forward into the towel, covering his face and quivering. But Russel was still angry. He was sick of having to stand by while Murdoc continually abused the singer, while Russ just had to wait for it to happen and pick up the pieces afterward. He was tired of being sensitive and acting like he should just respect their dynamic, or being afraid that his intervention would just make it worse. It wasn't his _job_ to deal with this sort of endless cycle of blood and desperate hopes for recovery. It hurt him to see his band mates such a mess, and he always had to make tough decisions about how to deal with it. As much as it hurt him, Russel couldn't complain to anyone because he knew he wasn't getting the worst of it, and he felt alone and resentful keeping it inside. He had to maintain enough maturity to make up for everyone else's lack thereof. If only Murdoc could grow up and control his temper. If only 2D learned not to agitate the violent man.

 _Something_ needed to change.

The man on the toilet wasn't about to have a conversation, though, punctuating the silence that followed with soft, high-pitched gasps and trembling hard. Tears flowing into the damp fabric. This wasn't the time to ask hard questions, Russ realized, coming down from his tirade as his pulse slowed. He reached out and, very slowly, placed his large hand on the shoulder in front of him. It was strangely cold.

"I'm sorry."

Both stopped after each realized the other had said the phrase in unison.

Russel sighed. "Look, why don't you have a shower and I can patch you up later?" he suggested. "Maybe I should take you to the hospital...just don't worry about it for now, I'll talk to you after, alright?"

Russ felt a bony hand on top of his. 2D turned to face him, towel lowered, eyes puffy.

"Thanks, Russ. You really are the best friend anyone could ask for."


	5. Revolutions

**A/N: Last chapter, thanks for reading! This is where everything from the previous chapters comes together. Also, it made more sense when I wrote it, back before we found out about El Mierda. Oh well, it's still possible.**

 **Please leave a comment, whether you liked or hated it or have a question or thoughts or anything!**

Stuart ran the water cold, as even lukewarm water agitated his wounds. It seemed like forever that he was watching the red water swirl down the drain, hoping the blood from his head, back, shoulder and thighs would run off completely. But as the water slowly diluted to lighter shades of red, he was stuck in the shower with his own dark thoughts.

Stuck. _Trapped._ Again. Stuart knew what it was like to be trapped. In his own comatose body, in a deep-sea prison, in a whale, and now it was clear that iron bars had been erected around his mind and soul.

When the water ran clear, Stu stood in the shower, shivering. He intended to get out and talk to Russel outside the bathroom door, but that seemed like it was going to be a suddenly insurmountable task. More than he could process right now. Still, he was cold enough to exit the stall and pick up a white, fluffy towel. He carefully patted down his body, splotching the cloth with pink, while sitting on the toilet seat again. Then he reached into the shower to turn off the water, then changed his mind. If Russ was listening, 2D wanted the drummer to think Stu was still washing up. So he let the stream run into the empty stall.

This was the second time he had finished a shower in one day, he noted, but the one from this morning felt so different. _He_ felt different. He _was_ different.

2D reached for his pants, which he had discarded on the floor. He cringed to see that there was blood on the inside of them. He picked them up and folded them inward, hiding the stain. Then, Stu felt something in the jeans' back pocket. He reached in and was surprised to find his mobile phone was still there, along with two business cards.

He flipped through the cards, putting his phone down on the floor, and looking at the therapist's card, the one with the sunset on it. Or was it a sunrise? The sun was over an ocean with pinks and oranges. It reminded him of the sight he had seen when he had busted through the skin of the whale, again wet with blood, although the sky had been whiter then. He ached for that feeling of emergence again, to feel the sun on his face, to breathe freely in the wide air. To leave his captor forever.

He ran his thumb over the print of the therapist's name and website. It hadn't been easy to escape the whale; it was risky and exhausting and terrifying. But he had needed to try, to at least die knowing that he had done what he could. On the other hand, there were times when there really _was_ nothing he could have done to escape confinement, and he had just needed to accept it, like when he was in the coma. Every day he had wished for just _some_ control, any chance to change his fate.

What situation was he in now? What could he do? He pondered the notion and stared forward at the misty mirror in front of the toilet. He stood up and used the towel to wipe the steam away, and gasped to see the state he was in. Stu sat back down and turned to the next business card.

The one with the truck on it. From the guy with the fez at the bar. Who had said he could "do something" about the bassist.

To escape the whale, Stu had needed to risk hurting both himself and his captor. He had to take the plunge. He had to let the desperation run through his veins and take the wheel, adrenaline pulling him through. He turned over the card to see nothing but a mobile number. He would never forget the moment he made this choice. Stuart picked up his phone from the floor. He carefully opened his messaging app and typed in the number from the card. He typed out three short lines.

 _hey. its 2d from the club last night._

 _what do u want 2 kno about murdoc?_

 _w_ _hatever u need i can help u._ _im in._

He held the phone in both hands as he stared at the messages.

Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pressed "send."

He closed the phone and held it between his knees. He found he was cold and shaking, and looked forward again to see himself in the mirror.

Stu smiled at his reflection.

You can be happy, 2D thought to himself.

If you choose to be.


End file.
